


Showers and Submission

by xBlackxRosexRebellionx



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dirty Talking in Russian, Dom John, F/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Shower Sex, Sub Female, Subtitles for Russian Dialogue, dirty talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xBlackxRosexRebellionx/pseuds/xBlackxRosexRebellionx
Summary: John Wick never knew that getting revenge against his enemies would be so sweet.
Relationships: John Wick/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Showers and Submission

_So, there are SURPRISINGLY few John Wick stories out there and even fewer SMUTTY stories about him. I wanted to fix that. So, while this has taken me MONTHS to finally finish it, I set about writing the smuttiest one-shot I could think to write about him. And this is what my crazy brain concocted…_

_Who you talkin' to man?  
Who you talkin' to man?  
  
Who do you think you are?  
Some kind of superstar  
Who do you think I be?  
A pretty beggar on my knees  
  
What's that across your eyelid?  
What's that across your tongue?  
Which funeral comes marchin'  
When the holy deed is done (yeah)?  
  
And I wanna' know  
Who you talkin' to man?  
And I wanna' know  
Who you talkin' to man?  
And I wanna' know  
Who you talkin' to man?  
  
I'm gonna' grab your throat  
I'm gonna' take your worth  
I'm gonna' tell you something  
Something you've never heard  
  
Who knows you better than I?  
The one you've never known  
I'll give you back your body  
You can give me back my throne, (ahh)  
  
And I wanna' know  
Who you talkin' to man?  
And I wanna' know  
Who you talkin' to man?  
  
(Who you talkin' to man?)  
(Who you talkin' to man?)  
  
Hey, hey, hey  
How do you like me now?  
Hey, hey, hey  
How do you like me now?  
Hey, hey, hey  
How do you like me now?  
Hey, hey, hey  
How do you like me now?  
  
Hey, hey, hey  
How do you like me now?  
Hey, hey, hey  
How do you like me now?  
Hey, hey, hey  
How do you like me now?  
Hey, hey, hey  
How do you like me now?  
  
(Who you talkin' to man?)_

_  
(Who you talkin' to man?)_

_(Who you talkin' to man?)_

_  
(Who you talkin' to man?)_

**_Showers and Submission_ **

John Wick slid the key into the lock, twisting the knob and stepping into the upscale hotel room. His eyes roamed around the living room and he sighed. He wasn’t surprised when he couldn’t locate the woman he’d kidnapped five months ago, the one source of leverage he had against Viggo Tarasov. Despite the fact that she was only 23 years old, that woman enjoyed making his life hell more than anyone he’d ever met. In fact, what had originally started as a brilliant plan to exact his revenge on Viggo Tarasov for allowing his disrespectful son, Ioseph, to commit such harsh crimes against him so soon after his beloved wife’s death had quickly turned into a living nightmare for John Wick. Because, if there was one thing he’d come to learn about Katarina Tarasov over the past five months, it was this: she was hell on two legs. That woman was as stubborn and spiteful as they came, and she wouldn’t hesitate to disobey him if the mood suited her.

“Fucking hell…” he mumbled to himself as he toed out of his black dress shoes and closed the door behind him, flipping the lock and sliding the chain across.

He _knew_ he shouldn’t have gone out and left her in the penthouse suite there at the Black Velvet Hotel alone, but he’d had business to attend to, business that the feisty little Russian mafia heiress’ presence only would’ve hindered, had he decided to drag her along with him.

He stepped further into the living room, dark eyes scanning his surroundings. Knowing Kat, it was hard telling where the hell she was. But, rather than panic, he decided to call out to her, hoping he’d get some kind of response.

“Kat?” he called, his deep voice echoing slightly in the empty room.

The only answer he received was silence.

So, he tried calling out again, a little louder this time.

“Kat?!” he called.

Still, silence was the only sound that greeted him.

He started across the room, heading in the direction of the east wing, where her bedroom was located. Maybe she’d gotten tired and had decided to call it an early night. There was no sense in worrying if there was a logical explanation for her absence. Then again, _nothing_ about Katarina Tarasov was logical.

He called out to her as he made his way down the hall.

“Katarina?!” he prompted.

But no answer came.

He rounded the corner and entered the bedroom, only to find that it too was empty. Hell, he even checked her bathroom, figuring maybe she’d decided to indulge in a nice, hot bath, something she quite enjoyed doing when she got the time. Shit, that woman would spend _hours_ soaking in the tub if he’d let her. But the massive garden tub was empty too.

_Now_ he was worried, reaching back to ease the Beretta from the waistband of his black dress pants as he stalked down the hallway. He flipped the safety off, heading down the west wing of their shared suite as he approached his own bedroom. His dark eyes roamed the hallway, taking in every detail of his surroundings as he approached his bedroom, his ears alert as he drew closer.

He entered the room, growling in frustration when he discovered that it too was empty. But his frustration only lasted a moment before his ears were greeted by the distinct sound of cascading water, the spray of the shower. And, above that, was the sound of music blaring out of his bathroom.

John heaved a sigh, flipping the safety back on his gun and setting it over on the nightstand beside his bed. The woman was going to get her ass chewed – and thoroughly – for causing him to worry.

He worked the buttons of his suit jacket open, shrugging out of it and tossing it onto his bed, before stalking over to the bathroom. He discovered that she’d left it open a crack, a steady stream of steam billowing out of the room as that soft, sweet voice wafted to his ears as she sang along to the song. He wasn’t quite sure what the song was, but it was something slow, something metal with a techno influence.

_Red lips, a sinister tongue  
(I'll taste you until I can't)  
Our trip has just begun  
(I'll fly with you til the end)  
Psychotic voice  
(You are in my veins now)  
And there's no denying  
(There's no denying)  
As we both burst into flames_

_(Don’t come down)_

_There's no coming down  
(Higher ground)  
Floating over ground  
(Out of body)  
Out of body  
Inner mind  
(I'm your slave)  
This is what I crave  
I'm lost, I'm saved_

_  
It's my obsession, possession began  
(Physical, psychical, illumination)  
Intoxication, fascination  
(Mystical, sexual hallucination)  
Sexual (hallucination)  
Sexual (hallucination)_

_You watch me come undone  
(It makes me want you more)  
I'm crawling into the unknown  
(I'll follow you to the core)  
I feel like I'm dying  
(I'm right beside you)  
You whisper, "we're flying"  
(There's no denying)  
We both converge as one_

_(Don’t come down)_

_There's no coming down  
(Higher ground)  
We're floating over ground  
(Out of body)  
Out of body  
Inner mind  
(I'm your slave)  
This is what I crave  
I'm lost, I'm saved_

_  
It's my obsession, possession began  
(Physical, psychical, illumination)  
Intoxication, fascination  
(Mystical, sexual hallucination)  
Sexual (hallucination)  
Sexual (hallucination)_

_(I can barely breathe)_

_I can barely breathe  
(I can barely move)  
I can barely move  
(I can barely) separate (me from) you  
This is what I crave  
To be your slave_

_Red lips, sinister tongue…_

_It's my obsession, possession began  
(Physical, psychical, illumination)  
Intoxication, fascination  
(Mystical, sexual, hallucination)  
Sexual (hallucination)  
Sexual (hallucination)_

_Hallucination (sexual)_

_Hallucination (sexual)_

_Hallucination (sexual)_

_Hallucination…_

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, the heat and humidity in the room surrounding him, embracing him. He was reminded of a sauna. But that thought was quickly pushed to the back of his mind as his dark eyes settled on the shapely form of the dark-haired young beauty who had spent the past five months under his watchful eye.

He watched for a moment, his dark eyes following the sensual movements of the Russian mafia heiress as she swayed her hips to the music, her spine curling as she bumped first one hip to the beat of the music, then the other. She brought both hands up to sift her fingers through her long, dark hair, her eyes closed as she tipped her head back, those full, sensual lips eliciting the erotic lyrics as her voice filled the steam-ridden room.

He’d never seen her like this, never seen her completely naked. Sure, he’d seen her half-naked more times than he could count, especially those first couple weeks, when she’d been trying to feel him out, trying to see just what she could get away with, just how far she could push him. Back then, she’d tried everything: flirting with him, taunting him, insulting him, blackmailing him, even outright seducing him. All of her attempts had failed, of course. She’d never encountered a man quite like John Wick. But that hadn’t deterred her from trying. Eventually, she’d settled for making his life as miserable as possible, teasing him with little glimpses of her half-naked body, taunting him with insults whenever the mood struck her, and making it a point to make things as difficult for him as humanly possible.

But this was the first time that he’d actually seen her _completely_ naked. And _fuck_ if it wasn’t a sight to behold!

The air was sucked right out of his lungs as his dark eyes slowly roamed down her body, starting with those long, dark, thick waves that fell halfway down her back. Those strands were remarkably soft, as he recalled, and they were a dark, mousy brown color, standing out in stark contrast with those bold, blue eyes. Those eyes were unlike anything he had ever seen, a bright shade of electric blue closer to the iris but a stunning shade of forest green just around the pupils. With her back facing him, he couldn’t see those elegant, exotic features. But he would never forget her face, having committed every detail to his memory. Her brows were dark, arching above her eyes, which were framed with long, dark, thick lashes. Her nose was slender and delicate, her lips full and pouty, her chin small and rounded. Her cheeks were slender, angular, and she had a small, circular beauty mark on her left cheek, halfway between her eye and her upper lip. She had another one on the right side of her nose. Her jawline was firm, leading down to the long, elegant column of her neck, which was covered by her hair.

Wick let his eyes slowly roam down the length of her back, taking in the sleek curve of her spine as his dark eyes slowly made their way down to the ample swell of her ass. He nearly groaned when his eyes discovered the round, generous cheeks there, his eyes growing darker as his desire rose.

He reached up to loosen his black, silk tie, his long, slender fingers easily working the knot loose. He let it fall to the floor before slowly working the buttons of his black dress shirt open, his eyes continuing their downward trek as they slowly slid down those firm thighs and those long, slender, toned legs. Those legs went on for miles, leading down to small but nimble feet.

He worked quietly, shrugging out of his shirt and silently depositing it onto the floor with the gathering pile of clothes there on the cream-colored tiles. He bent over then, tugging first one black sock off and then the other. Next, he worked on the buckle of his belt, his nimble fingers quickly and easily working it open. He popped the button of his pants loose and slowly slid the zipper down the track, careful not to make his presence known to the dark-haired beauty in the shower.

He worked his pants down his long legs, slowly and cautiously, until he could lower them to the floor. Then he stepped out of them, shucking his black boxers. Now he was as naked as the stunning little temptation in his shower.

He let his eyes find her there, standing under the spray with her head tipped back, her face lifted to the warm spray as it fell down over her. She turned around, turning her back to the spray of the shower, and John was greeted with the sight of those large, full breasts, which led down to just a _hint_ of her ribs and, even further, to the slender shape of her stomach. Her hips flared, leading down to the small, upside down triangle of soft, dark curls between her thighs. He could barely suppress the growl that threatened to tear from his throat at that sight, his cock twitching as he felt it start to stir.

He reached down to the pile of his clothes, his deft fingers easily locating the black silk of his tie, and wrapped it around his left hand.

He moved towards the shower then, silently stalking over to it, and opened the door. He stepped into the shower unnoticed, closing it quietly behind him, and set his plan into motion.

Within seconds, he had the stunning little brunette trapped against the wall of the shower, a gasp spilling from her lips as her back met the smooth, cold, marbled tiles. Those blue eyes grew wide with fear, every muscle in her lithe little body growing taut as he caught both of her delicate wrists in his large hands and lifted them above her head, quickly binding them together with the now-soaked silk of his black tie.

But when realization dawned on her and she recognized the face of the man standing in front of her, Katarina Tarasov slit her eyes at him, cursing, _“Wick, ty gryaznyy sukin syn_ _!” – (_ _Wick, you dirty son of a bitch!)_

Those dark eyes danced with mischief, a smug little smirk curling at his lips as he peered down at her.

“I’ll have you know I took a shower just this morning,” he retorted, a glint of amusement shining in his eyes, his lips twitching as he fought back a smile.

She narrowed her eyes at him, snapping, “What the _hell_ is wrong with you? Sneaking in and ambushing me in the fucking shower? _Tebe povezlo, chto ya ne pinat' svoy grebanyy zadnitsu_. _” – (_ _You’re lucky I don’t kick your fucking ass.)_

“You keep forgetting that I know Russian,” he reminded her, his dark eyes slowly roaming down the length of her body, lingering on all of his favorite places, “But, quite frankly, I’d _love_ to see you try. That’d make my day, Kit Kat.”

He _knew_ that she hated that little nickname. But, if she could annoy him at every available opportunity then, by all means, he could do the same.

She narrowed her eyes even further, demanding, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he pointed out, using one large hand to hold her wrists up over her head, pressed tightly to the wall, as he slowly slid the other one down the length of her arm.

His touch was just a whisper, the rough pads of his fingertips causing her skin to break out in goosebumps as they trailed down the inside of her arm, pausing briefly to slide his thumb across the crease of her arm.

Her breath caught in her throat, her muscles twitching under his touch, and she had to clear her throat before she could talk once more, insisting, “I’m taking a fucking shower. What does it look like? I was minding my _own_ fucking business –,”

But he interrupted her before she could finish, scolding, “You _really_ need to start listening to me, Katarina –,”

“What does that have to do with anything?!” she cried in exasperation, glaring up at him.

“I wouldn’t have had to look all over the fucking suite for you if you’d just listened to me and waited for me in the fucking living room like I’d told you,” Wick pointed out, “I was going to take you down to the club and grab us a bite to eat. But it doesn’t look like you’re ready to go, now does it? Maybe I should just go by myself instead.”

“Maybe you should!” she huffed.

“Oh, honey, if I do that, I’ll make sure I leave you cuffed to the bed while I’m gone,” he informed her, “I can’t exactly trust you if you won’t listen to me, now can I?”

She narrowed those crystal blue orbs at him, hissing, “You wouldn’t _dare.”_

“You _obviously_ underestimate me, Kit Kat,” he taunted, a sly little smirk curling at his lips.

“And _you_ obviously underestimate _me!”_ she countered, “Ambushing an innocent woman in the shower? I could’ve busted my ass! _Tupoy amerikanskiy muzhchina! Reshiv, chto on mozhet delat' vse, chto on khochet. Nu ne so mnoy, on ne mozhet!” – (Stupid American man! Thinking he can do whatever he wants. Well not with ME, he can’t!)_

His lips twitched at that and she knew that he was fighting back a smile as he leaned in closer, his nose nearly brushing hers as he brought one large hand up to frame the side of her face and rumbled in that low, raspy voice of his, “Ah but that’s where you’re wrong, Hell Kat. This ‘stupid American man’ can do whatever he damn well pleases with you.”

“Like _fuck_ you can!” she huffed, “Now untie me and get out of my shower!”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, his thumb grazing over the soft flesh of her lips and eliciting a shiver from the feisty brunette, “This happens to be _my_ shower. _Your_ bathroom is on the other side of the penthouse suite. And I came in here because I couldn’t find you anywhere else in the fucking suite. Don’t you _ever_ disobey me like that again, Katarina.”

She narrowed those blue eyes at him, defiance flashing in her eyes.

He tilted her chin, his hand cupping it to ensure that he had her full attention and lifting it so that her eyes would meet his.

Then he locked eyes with her, scolding, “Don’t you ever disobey me like that again. I mean it.”

“I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” the feisty little Russian spat, twisting his own words and throwing them back in his face, “Now get out and let me finish my shower.”

She waited for him to step back, to untie her, to leave the shower. But he didn’t do any of those things. Instead, what came out of his mouth next shocked her.

“Maybe I need to punish you,” he pondered aloud, “Leave you with a little reminder of what happens when you disobey me.”

Her eyes widened at that and every muscle in her body tensed. Punish her? What did he mean by that? Surely, he wouldn’t _hurt_ her… Would he?

Then again, this was John Wick. She’d heard _many_ stories about this man, about the shocking things this man was capable of, the brutality he was known for. She had heard _countless_ stories about how this very man standing in front of her had buried more bodies than _any_ of her father’s other associates – and even her father _himself –_ and how he had paved the way for her father’s very success as the leader of a well-known Russian crime syndicate. Maybe she _was_ underestimating him. But how could she _not,_ considering the fact that she had no idea just what exactly this man was capable of?

Katarina watched him closely, her blue eyes locked on his face, and felt his hand slowly skim down the length of her neck, her eyes squeezing shut as she waited for those long, slender fingers to close around her throat. And they did, but only slightly, just enough to ensure that he had her full attention as he leaned in close, his warm breath fanning against her ear.

“You were a bad girl, Katarina…” he chided, his voice a low, sultry rumble, “You disobeyed me. But you got lucky tonight. It was _me_ that snuck into the suite and not someone else. It could’ve been one of the men that were eyeing you up at the bar last night. It could’ve been someone contracted to kill me. It could’ve been another one of your father’s enemies. They could’ve taken you from me. They could’ve hurt you. They could’ve _killed_ you. Or worse. Don’t you ever do that to me again. Do you understand?”

She didn’t speak, choosing to simply glare back at him instead and feeling his hand tighten around her throat just slightly, as if to coax a response out of her.

_“Do_ you understand?” he prompted, his fingers tightening around her throat as his dark eyes narrowed.

“I understand that you’re a fucking prick,” she taunted, her lips curling up into a smug little smirk.

John gave a single, downward nod and replied, “If that’s the way you feel, maybe I need to remind you just who is in charge here…”

His hand dipped lower, calloused fingertips skating over her collarbone and sending a shudder racing down her spine. They continued their trek further south, skirting around the rise of her left breast but avoiding the center of it to navigate around the curve of it, teasing the curve of the generous mound with whispery touches. He was rewarded with sharp gasp, the sound traveling straight from his ears down to his cock, causing it to twitch once more as it started to stir.

His dark eyes never left hers, dark chocolate meeting those bright, electric blue orbs. Her eyes were wide, her breath hitching in her throat, as he moved his large hand to cup the generous swell of her breast, his thumb brushing over the rose-colored peak of her nipple. Her eyes drifted shut then, her back arching to press herself more firmly against his palm, and she voiced a low moan.

_“Fuck…”_ she swore sharply, that single, four letter word slipping from her lips as her head tipped back against the shower wall and her hands clenched under his grasp.

John’s eyes drifted shut as the harsh, four letter word greeted his ears. He’d never heard anything that sounded so fucking hot in his life. He didn’t know what it was, but hearing her swear like that, knowing that _he_ was the one to coax that word out of her, had his dick hardening at an alarming rate.

He let his eyes flutter open, stroking his thumb over the puckering peak of her nipple once more, demanding, “Open your eyes, Katarina. Look at me. Look at me when I touch you.”

Katarina’s eyes slowly fluttered open, long, dark lashes parting to reveal the tall, dark, dangerous man that she had come to desire over the past few weeks. She wasn’t quite sure when things had changed between them. But, somewhere along the way, she’d started to see him as more than just someone she could antagonize, someone that was simply using her as leverage against her father. She’d come to crave his attention, longing for his affection. But it never came… until tonight.

And now, seeing those dark, almost obsidian eyes peering down at her as he toyed with her, it sent a shudder racing down her spine. She felt him capture the puckered peak between his thumb and index finger, squeezing lightly and giving a little tug. Her back arched, a throaty moan spilling from her lips as her body blatantly encouraged his bold advances. She didn’t know where this side of John Wick had come from, but she fucking _loved_ it.

“Yes…” she praised, gazing at him with heavy-lidded eyes, “More…”

Those dark eyes narrowed at her and he dealt her a sharp pinch, causing her to gasp as her body jerked towards him in response to the short, sharp burst of pain.

She narrowed her eyes at him and spat, _“Vy chertovski ukolom_ _!_ _” – (You fucking prick!)_

“Mmm…” he purred, leaning in to nuzzle the tip of his nose along her cheek, following it over to her mouth, where it paused, his lips just a hair’s breadth from hers, “Such a dirty mouth…”

_“Ne pochti stol' zhe grekhovny, kak vasha_ _..._ _” (Not nearly as sinful as yours…)_ she purred, gazing at him with heavy-lidded eyes, those eyes as dark as a summer storm as they focused on the full, sensual shape of his lips, _“To chto ya ne dal by chuvstvovat' ikh prizhimayut moy –,” (What I wouldn’t give to feel them pressed against my – )_

But his lips molded to hers before she could finish her sentence, effectively silencing her as those soft, warm, full lips met hers. A low purr escaped her as she felt that warm, wet tongue snake out of his mouth and into hers. He used the muscle to explore the cavern of her mouth, searching every little nook and cranny, tasting every _inch_ of her. He released her wrists, both of his large hands sliding down the elegant curve of her spine until he found the ample swell of her ass, filling his hands with the generous mounds of flesh.

He grasped her firmly, a low growl rumbling up from his chest as he dealt her a firm squeeze, coaxing a surprised little whimper from her as she rose up onto her tiptoes, not having expected such a bold move. The motion brought her even closer to him, her breasts pressing up against his chest, and he began to knead at the soft flesh filling his hands, coaxing a tiny moan from the brunette in his grasp. But soon that wasn’t enough, and he was hoisting her up, lifting her from the shower floor and setting her on his hips.

Katarina wrapped her legs around him, gripping him with her thighs as she brought her arms down to drape them over his shoulders, her long fingers spearing through the long, thick, jet-black strands of his wet hair as she locked her legs around his narrow waist.

“Mmm…” he groaned against her lips, “So fucking good…”

John dipped his head, burying his face in the side of her neck, and nuzzled at her with the tip of his nose and those soft, warm, full lips. He breathed her in, taking in the bold, tantalizing scent of her shower gel, an intoxicating blend of black raspberries, burgundy rose, amber, plum, and vanilla. The fragrance was as bold and exotic as the woman who wore it – and every bit as tempting too.

His lips ghosted over her soft, sensitive flesh, pressing hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses there as he blazed a fiery trail down to her pulse point, where he paused to flick his tongue over her skin, reveling in the fast tempo that greeted his tongue. He raked his teeth over the skin there, coaxing a sharp gasp and a shudder from the dark-haired goddess in his arms.

He carried her over to the bench that was built into the shower, his deep voice thick with desire as he rasped, _“Ya khochu tebya poprobovat'_ _.” – (_ _I want to taste you.)_

Her eyes flew open and she gazed down at him with those stunning, blue eyes, blinking. She didn’t speak for a moment, clearly too shocked to form a coherent sentence.

She just stared at him with that pretty mouth hanging open, blinking down at him.

But, when she’d finally managed to recompose herself, she inquired, “What… What did you just say?”

He just smirked, his lips curling up into a wolfish grin as he gazed up at her, his dark eyes dancing with mischief as he informed her, “I know a few things. I _do_ speak Russian, you know?”

“I see that,” she muttered, “What else do you know?”

_Now_ she was curious. Where had John Wick learned how to talk dirty in Russian? And, better yet, who the fuck had taught him how to say such deliciously wicked things?

_“Ya khochu, chtoby poglotit' vas_ _...” (I want to DEVOUR you...)_ he growled, his lips finding hers for a long, lingering kiss that had her toes curling and her fingers tugging at his hair as she spilled a moan into his mouth, _“_ _I ya ne budu ostanavlivat'sya, poka vy ne krichali moye imya_ _._ _” – (_ _And I won’t stop until you’re screaming my name.)_

Katarina gasped, her thighs squeezing at his hips as a certain part of her anatomy clenched. Not only was he talking dirty to her, but he was speaking to her in her _own_ language. And hearing John Wick speak Russian… hearing him speak _those_ words to her… It was the sexiest fucking thing she’d ever heard. Nothing compared to hearing John Wick tell her every dirty little detail about all the wicked things he wanted to do to her.

“Mmm…” she purred, leaning in to nuzzle at his cheek, just to the side of his ear, “You talk a big game, John Wick. But will you deliver?”

A slow, sure, wicked grin curled at his lips, those dark eyes dancing with mischief, and just that one look had her sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. She knew she was in trouble now. She’d just gone and tempted the Devil himself.

“That’s a challenge I’ll accept,” he countered, his voice low and sultry as he lowered her down onto the bench there in the shower.

She swallowed hard as she watched him lower himself down onto his knees on the tile floor of the shower. His large hands found her soft thighs, easing them apart wide enough that he could fit his lean frame between them. He wrapped his hands around her thighs then, tugging her to the edge of the bench and hoisting her legs up to drape them over his firm, broad shoulders, leaving her to gasp as she fell flat on her back on the bench.

“Damn it, Wick!” she scolded, writhing on the hard, tile surface of the bench as she tried to push herself up onto her elbows, “Untie me or I’ll knock myself out before you even get started!”

John sighed, shrugging his shoulders to ease her thighs off of them before he reached out with both hands and found the knot at her wrists, quickly and easily loosening the black silk and tossing it across the shower to land in a wet heap by the door of the shower.

“Happy?” he asked.

_“Ya byl by schastliveye, yesli vashe litso pogreben mezhdu moikh beder,”_ she retorted. _– (I’d be happier if your face was buried between my thighs)_

He cocked one dark brow at her and inquired, “Oh is _that_ so?”

She cocked one dark brow of her own this time, only to gasp when he hoisted her thighs up over his shoulders once more, hunching over her as he brought his lips to the sensitive spot just above her knee. His tongue snaked out of his mouth, lapping at the bend of her knee, and she gasped, her toes curling as one of her hands flew behind her to support her, even as the other flew down to spear her fingers through those long, thick, black locks.

He worked that wicked mouth higher and higher, his tongue coming out to lick and lap at her skin as he worked his way up the inside of her thigh. His lips danced over her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake as her muscles twitched beneath those sinful lips.

When he’d reached the highest point of the inside of her thigh, he latched on, his teeth sinking into her soft skin and his tongue lapping at her as he sucked mercilessly, leaving his mark as a little reminder for the both of them. Katarina couldn’t help but watch, finding him gazing back up at her with eyes as dark as night as he marked her flawless skin, staking his claim on her. After a few moments, he relented, swirling his tongue over the dark, purplish bruise to ease the sting.

When he eased back, he inspected the mark, giving a single, downward nod of approval, before he dipped his head once more, bringing his mouth to the place she craved him most this time.

_“Chert menya!” (Fuck me!)_ she moaned in defeat, feeling his hot breath fan against her equally heated flesh, _“O, chert menya…” – (Oh, fuck me…)_

John felt her fingers tighten around his hair as she tried to guide his head closer, but he was in no hurry. And if there was one thing John Wick was known for, it was doing things on _his_ terms. He paused, his eyes drifting shut and his nostrils flaring as her scent greeted him. Her curls might’ve smelled like the shower gel she’d used, but there was no denying the potent musk of her desire. His tongue slid out of his mouth to wet his lips as his mouth began to water.

_“Tak chertovski sladkaya…” (So fucking sweet…)_ he growled, his eyes fixed on her pretty face as he leaned in closer until he was just a hair’s breadth from the most sacred part of the dark-haired, Russian mafia heiress that he’d been craving for the past fucking _month_.

He’d thought about this for damn near three weeks now, imagining her scent, the taste of her. And now he would _finally_ taste her.

His tongue snaked out of his mouth, sliding up the length of her slit in a slow, languid stroke, a low, rumbling growl coursing up from deep within his chest as her sweet musk greeted him.

_“Tak chertovski sladkaya…” (So fucking sweet…)_ he purred once more, trailing his tongue up the length of her slit again to capture the juices that were gathering there.

Katarina voiced a sharp moan, her hips arching towards his face as she gave a slight tug at the long, black strands of his hair, goading him on.

_“Tak khorosho,” (_ _So good)_ she whimpered, _“Tak chertovski khorosho_ _..._ _” – (So fucking good…)_

His lips curled into a smirk as he slid his tongue over her again, applying a little more pressure this time. Her taste was a heady aphrodisiac, coaxing a low growl from him as he snaked his tongue inside, exploring her hot, wet depths as his hands came up to grasp her firmly, his long, slender fingers holding her ass and pressing her closer. But he didn’t hear any complaints out of the dark-haired goddess who was writhing beneath him.

Quite on the contrary, she used his hair to try to guide him, tugging at the dark strands in an attempt to bring him even closer. When that failed, she cupped the back of his head in her hand, a low, throaty moan spilling from her lips as she tipped her head back and her eyes fluttered shut, her hips rocking towards his face.

“John…” she purred, those firm thighs framing his face as he dug his fingertips into her ass, pressing her right against him and delving his tongue down deep, devouring her with a low snarl as her taste flooded his senses.

His eyes narrowed, seeing that her eyes were closed, and he used the tip of his nose to brush against her clit, giving a particularly harsh jerk as he used the generous swell of her ass to guide her motions. That coaxed those beautiful eyes open. They were so dark, like the color of the ocean on a stormy day, her eyes heavy-lidded as she fixed her gaze on him. He narrowed his own eyes at her as he placed his mouth over her entrance and gave a suck, slurping up her juices as he nudged at her clit with his nose once more. He watched as her cheeks tinged with pink and it caught his curiosity. Why was she blushing? If there was one thing he’d come to learn about Katarina Tarasov over the past five months, it was that she wasn’t shy about _anything_. Was it because of the sound of him slurping at her?

He decided to test that little theory, placing his mouth just right so that he could catch the juices that flowed out of her and sucking greedily, coaxing those rude, slurping sounds forth as he watched her face closely. And, just like that, her cheeks flamed. He couldn’t help the smirk that curled at his lips and he sucked even harder, nudging his nose against that little bundle of nerves just before he delved his tongue inside of her slick, wet heat.

Katarina gasped, feeling that warm, wet muscle snaking inside of her again as he licked and lapped at her, channeling his tongue as deep inside of her as he could. And, when that didn’t satisfy the contract killer, he used her ass to press her right up against his face, burying his tongue even deeper inside of her as his nose prodded at that sensitive little bundle of nerves that was hidden between her slick folds. She moaned, her hips arching and her fingers tangling in his hair as he started to thrust that sinful tongue in and out of her.

It was all so intense, so raw, so fucking hot. She’d never had a man pleasure her like this before. Despite the fact that she’d had _plenty_ of lovers in the past, some of which had been _very_ experienced in pleasing a woman, she’d never felt anything even _remotely_ close to this level of pleasure. There was no denying that some of those men had known just what to do to ring orgasms out of her and, if they didn’t, Kat had had no qualms with taking matters into her own hands. But this… These wicked things that John Wick was doing to her… She just couldn’t seem to get enough. She never wanted it to end. And yet, her body was starting to grow hot, a familiar, coiling sensation starting low in her abdomen.

“John…” she moaned, arching her hips towards his face as she gazed down at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

Almost as if sensing her euphoria, he eased his head back, those dark, obsidian orbs fixed on her as he narrowed them slightly, instructing, “Don’t you cum, Katarina. Not yet.”

She cocked one dark brow at him. Oh? And just what, exactly, did he plan to do if she did? Who was _he_ to deny the tension that she felt building inside? She couldn’t control the muscles she felt growing taut down low in her abdomen. And she had no desire to either.

His eyes never left her face as he flicked that tongue mercilessly over her wet heat, groaning against her as if he enjoyed the act even more than she did – and, quite frankly, she didn’t know if that was possible. This man was driving her mad! _Everything_ about him made her crave him. The way the scruff of his beard rasped against her thighs, scraping the sensitive skin there. The way his nose nudged and prodded at that little powerhouse of nerves that was hidden between her folds, pushing her closer and closer to that blissful brink. The way his tongue never ceased its frantic movements unless he had to ease back just far enough to catch his breath, gasping for air before he’d plunge back in again. The way he panted against her heated flesh as his tongue danced over her slick center, his hot breath stoking the fire inside of her to a raging inferno. The way he snarled and growled as he devoured her, eliciting the sexiest fucking sounds she’d ever heard and making her inner muscles clench in desire.

“John!” she whined, her fingers tugging at his hair as she felt her toes start to curl and her thighs begin to shake.

The tension was growing unbearable, her muscles tightening, fluttering in anticipation. She knew that it was coming and fast.

“Katarina…” he growled low in his throat, the warning quite clear.

“John…” she whimpered, “I need… I need…”

She tried but couldn’t seem to form the words. It was hard to form coherent sentences at the moment, let alone put into words what exactly it was that she needed.

“Don’t you do it,” he warned, those dark eyes watching her as he nudged at her clit with the tip of his nose, slowly sliding it up and down the length of that hyper-sensitive little nub just to tease her.

“Please! Please, I need it!” she begged.

It was the _first_ time he’d ever heard her use the word please. But now that he knew what it took to make her elicit that simple, six letter word, he was more determined than ever to make her say it again.

“Don’t you _dare,”_ he snarled, flicking his tongue over her at a frantic pace, his hot breath teasing her to unbearable heights.

John didn’t know how much longer he could last. She was wearing at his resolve, shredding that stoic front he was known for with every whimper, every whine, every sharp tug at his hair. He could feel her thighs shaking on either side of his head, feel her body practically pulsing under his grasp. He knew he was teasing her, knew that the game he was playing was _far_ from fair, but he was having way too much damn fun to stop now. He was enjoying this moment just as much as the dark-haired beauty beneath him was. In fact, he didn’t want it to end.

So, when she gasped, every muscle in her body growing taut, he wanted to be disappointed. But as he stared up at her, his dark eyes riveted to that beautiful face, he found that he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He watched in complete awe as Katarina Tarasov came undone, her breath hitching in her throat just before she gave a sharp, strangled moan, her fingers fisting in his hair even as her other hand scrambled over the slick tiles of the bench in the shower, struggling to keep herself upright. And _fuck_ did she cum hard, her thighs shaking around his head, juices spilling into his mouth as he quickly brought his mouth to her entrance, greedily drinking her in. She gave another strangled cry, her fingers yanking at his hair as her body trembled, quaking like a leaf in a summer storm. Her back arched, hips rocking as the last waves of her pleasure rolled through her body. When she had finished, she was panting, sweat mingling with the spray of the shower as the tiny droplets roamed down over her bronzed skin.

John narrowed those dark eyes at her, his jaw set and his nostrils flaring, and Kat knew then that he was pissed. But she was too far gone to care. She tugged at his hair, guiding him closer so that she could crush her lips to his, her tongue delving into his mouth to dance with his and a moan spilling from her mouth into his when she tasted herself on his tongue. All ten of her fingers fisted in his long, wet hair, her thighs wrapping around his sides and locking behind his back to hold him in place as she practically devoured him, eager for more of his affection.

“Fuck me, John,” she demanded, her breath hot against his lips, “I need you to fuck me.”

John growled, capturing her lips once more as his cock twitched with desire. When he felt those soft, warm, wet lips capture his tongue and begin to suck greedily at it, coaxing a long, low groan from him as his cock bobbed against his stomach, his hips jerking towards her, he broke the kiss, narrowing his dark eyes at her.

This needed to stop. _Now._ If he didn’t gain control of this situation – and fast – this maddening little brunette was going to turn the tables on him. And if he gave her even so much as an _inch,_ she’d take a fucking mile. Soon, she’d be thinking that _she_ was the one that controlled _him._ And _that_ he wasn’t going to allow. _He_ was in charge. And it was about time that she realized that.

John pushed himself to his feet, his lips twitching into a smile as he saw those full lips curl down into a pout, her blue eyes watching him closely as he did the complete opposite of what she’d just demanded.

“Up on your feet,” he instructed, giving a backward jerk of his head as he peered down at her.

Her eyes lit up then, thinking that she was going to get her way, and the feisty little Russian was quick to comply, rising to her feet and smiling up at him.

But John surprised her, his large hands finding the curve of her hips and turning her around so that she faced the shower wall, her back facing him. This coaxed an excited little squeal out of the sassy brunette, and she turned her head to watch him over her shoulder, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

John used one foot to nudge her small feet further apart, making some more room for himself as he used one hand to brush her long, dark, wet hair over her shoulder. Then he slowly slid that hand down the curve of her spine until it was halfway down her back. He pressed firmly against it, the message behind the gesture loud and clear: bend over.

This time, the Russian mafia heiress wasn’t so quick to comply, her dark brows furrowing in confusion as she stared back at him over her shoulder, refusing to budge.

“Bend over,” he insisted, pressing against her back once more.

Finally, she agreed to his terms, lowering her torso and resting her hands flat on the tiles of the bench there in the shower.

John reached down, wrapping her long, dark hair around his fist and tugging to pull her head back towards him even as he leaned over her, resting one hand flat on the slick tiles of the bench there in the shower. The motion coaxed a sharp gasp of disbelief from Tarasov’s pampered little princess, and John felt his lips twitching up into a smug little smirk.

He brought his mouth right down to her ear, his voice a low rumble as he reminded her, “I warned you. I _told_ you I would punish you for disobeying me. But you didn’t believe me, did you, Kit Kat? Maybe you’ll believe me when I tell you I’m going to do something next time. Maybe you’ll listen when I tell _you_ to do something.”

He watched as she swallowed noticeably, those bright blue eyes flickering to his for a moment before she stared straight ahead at the wall, feigning indifference.

John gave a slow nod, pushing himself up from the bench to peer down at her, his tongue slipping past his lips to slide over them as his eyes fastened to the ample swell of her cheeks. He kept a firm grip on her hair with one hand as he slowly skimmed the other down the length of her back. When he reached the generous curve of her ass, he slowly ran his large palm over it, taking in the soft, smooth skin there. He gave a low purr of appreciation before bringing his hand back to land a sharp _WHACK_ against it.

Katarina gasped, her eyes growing wide in disbelief. Had he _really_ just –

_WHACK…_

She gasped once more, her body jerking from the sharp jolt. She felt her cheeks flushing as the blood flowed there. _Never_ had a man humiliated her like this, forcing her to submit to him and even going so far as to _punish_ her for not following his instructions. And yet, despite the blatant sting of humiliation, she couldn’t deny the way her inner muscles fluttered with desire.

She felt that rough, calloused palm skate over the sensitive flesh of her ass, gently caressing her, before she felt it disappear. Then there was the sharp sting as it connected with her skin once more.

_WHACK…_

Kat wasn’t quite sure what the sound was that escaped her then. It wasn’t quite a whine, but it wasn’t exactly a grunt either. It escaped her before she could suppress it, spilling into the heated mist that surrounded them, echoing throughout the bathroom as her ass rocked back towards her tormentor of its own accord.

“Mmm…” she heard him purr, “I think that one’s had enough. But we’d better make ‘em match, don’t you think?”

Kat sank her teeth into her bottom lip, afraid of what might come out if she opened her mouth.

She felt that rough palm stroking the soft skin of her opposite cheek, teasing her and ensuring that every nerve there was sensitized to his touch. Then his hand disappeared just before the sharp _WHACK_ sounded throughout the shower walls, making her gasp even as her body jerked from the force, her back arching, pushing her ass up and out for him.

“I might be mistaken…” he taunted, that deep voice so smooth, so sexy, which only made her hate him even more, “But I think you just might like this, Kat.”

His hand landed with another loud _WHACK,_ and she cursed herself, her eyes squeezing shut in shame, as a low, throaty purr escaped her.

“No…” he confirmed, “No mistake.”

_WHACK…_

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip until she tasted blood, but a sharp, needy whine still spilled past her closed lips. God, she was pathetic!

“Mmm…” he groaned, slowly stroking one hand over her sore rump, “Now they match… Pretty and pink.”

She felt him untangle his hand from her hair and she fell forward, her elbows colliding with the marbled tiles of the bench in the shower, hanging her head in shame. She was thankful that her long, dark hair formed a curtain around her face, shielding it from his line of sight. Because, if the heat in her cheeks was any indication, they were probably just as red as her ass cheeks were.

Every muscle in her body tensed when she felt his heat encroaching on her, felt his arms framing hers, his hands pressed flat over top of hers and his torso molding to the shape of her back as his slick, wet skin met hers.

“Who would’ve thought daddy’s perfect little angel was such a kink?” that deep, velvety voice practically purred into her ear, “You enjoyed that, didn’t you, Kit Kat?”

Kat sank her teeth even further into her bottom lip, willing herself to remain silent as she squeezed her eyes shut even tighter.

He waited only a moment before he reached up to wind her hair around his fist once more, tugging at it, making her crane her neck back to relieve the strain against her scalp.

_“Answer_ me when I talk to you, Katarina,” he prompted.

An embarrassing whine slipped from her lips, but she didn’t say a word, stubbornly refusing to give him the satisfaction.

But John wasn’t deterred, a slow, sure grin stretching across his handsome face as he purred, “Very well. Maybe I’ll just have to find out for myself then…”

Her dark brows furrowed together and her eyes fluttered open as the words registered in her brain. Every muscle in her body went rigid, her whole body tensing, as she waited, her breath caught in her throat.

Her mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut, when she felt the rough pads of his nimble fingers skirt over her slick center, her hips arching towards his hand to encourage his ministrations.

A slow, crooked smirk stretched across John’s face as he watched the bold little Russian react to his touch. His bold approach to punishing her had actually succeeded in turning her on, just as he’d known it would. There was no denying it. The proof coated his fingers, her juices dripping down the length of his long, slender fingers as he teased her. But he couldn’t resist rubbing it in.

He leaned in close to her ear, his voice a low, rumbling purr as he taunted, _“Posmotrite na sebya, tak chertovski vlazhnaya dlya menya. Takaya gryaznaya devushka...” – (Look at you, so fucking wet for me. Such a dirty girl…)_

Much to his surprise, she remained silent, but her breathing grew a little shallower, a little quicker. So, she wasn’t as unaffected by him as she’d like him to believe.

He decided to push her a little further, sneering, _“Znayet li papa yego dragotsennyy malen'kiy angel takoy grebanyy izlom? Chto on podumayet, yesli by on znal, chto ona prakticheski murlykala, a yego zleyshiy vrag pogladil yeye dovol'no malo kisku?” – (Does daddy know his precious little angel is such a fucking kink? What would he think if he knew that she was practically PURRING while his worst enemy stroked her pretty little pussy?)_

_“On dumal by, chto vy slaby dlya poddavki iskusheniyu,” (He would think you are weak for succumbing to temptation)_ she spat, a single, feminine snort of laughter escaping her just to taunt him, _“Preslovutyy, stoicheskiy Dzhon Vik poddalsya iskusheniyu. Eto nemnogo ironichno, net?” (The infamous, stoic John Wick caving to temptation. It’s a little ironic, no?)_

_“Ya slabaya?” (I’M weak?)_ he questioned, that deep, velvety voice sending a shudder rippling down her spine before he spoke in English this time, retorting, “We’ll see who’s weak, princess. If I remember correctly, _you_ were the one begging. And you’ll do it again before the night’s through.”

She laughed. But, even to John, the sound was a little breathy, a little nervous.

“See, one thing your family seems to forget is that I’m a man of my word,” he informed her, “When I say I’m going to do something, you can count on it. And you, Katarina Tarasov, will be begging before the sun rises. The question is… will I be merciful?”

She couldn’t suppress the shudder that ripped down her spine, and John couldn’t deny the way his lips twitched up into a slow, crooked smirk. Maybe she was starting to realize just how serious this game of cat and mouse was. But, if she had any doubts, he had no qualms with demonstrating it to her. _She_ was the one that liked to play games. And, tonight, he was going to play her favorite game. And he was going to _win._

He pushed himself up, straightening his spine, and gave a slight tug on her long, dark hair to ensure that he had her full attention. He dealt a sound swat to her ass, unable to resist the urge to feel that smooth, soft skin against his rough palm. The sound that greeted his ears was a satisfying _WHACK_ that resounded throughout the foggy expanse of the shower. And the surprised gasp that tore from the dark-haired beauty’s lips caused a certain part of his anatomy to twitch, a certain part that was hard and aching for release, straining against his stomach in a desperate attempt to gain his attention.

“Up!” he barked, tugging at her hair to get his message across, loud and clear.

He heard her hiss against the pain, lifting her head slightly to ease the strain against her scalp but stubbornly refusing to comply with his demand.

John couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, so we’re stubborn now? That’s funny,” he taunted, “Because earlier, we were _begging._ We were _desperate.”_

“Fuck you!” Kat snarled.

She flinched when she felt his heat encroaching on her again, his hot, slick flesh pressing against her as he brought his mouth right to her ear.

“Oh no, Kit Kat,” he countered, that rumbling baritone lower than she’d heard it yet, thick with desire as he practically purred, “Fuck _you…”_

Then his heat disappeared, and she was left in complete confusion, her dark brows furrowing. She chanced a glance back over her shoulder, finding him bending over by the corner of the shower.

What the hell was he doing?

But when he straightened, she discovered exactly what it was that he was doing. He was retrieving that damn tie. And he was heading her direction with it.

_“No,_ no, no,” she told him, shaking her head and pushing herself up straight, “You are _not_ tying my wrists again.”

“Oh, but I am,” he told her, “And you’re going to _like_ it.”

The smug smirk that curled at those sinful lips made her want to smack him. Because he was right. She _was_ going to like it. But she’d never tell _him_ that.

She moved away from the bench, slowly stepping closer to the door of the shower. She was _not_ going to be bent over that fucking bench again. And she’d be _damned_ if she didn’t at least _try_ to make a break for it while she had the chance.

But that thought was quickly squashed when the tall, dark, dangerous man before her sprung, quicker than she could imagine. He had her pinned against the wall of the shower, his tall, lean frame flush with her supple curves. Her eyes drifted shut, feeling him there. He was fucking perfect. He was hard where she was soft, firm where she was curvy. Those muscles were the direct result of intense, strenuous physical activity. She might have had years’ worth of training as a dancer, but her firm thighs and toned calves were no match for the killing machine that this man had become during his years’ worth of training as a contract killer.

She didn’t even realize what he was doing until she felt the wet silk tightening around her wrists as he secured the knot he’d made in the fabric. Her eyes fluttered open then, finding that handsome face, those beautiful, haunting, dark eyes staring back at her. Those eyes were so dark, nearly black in color, the pupils widening in desire as he let his eyes slowly rake down her body, taking in every dip and curve of her lithe little body.

When his eyes met hers once more, he murmured, “You might wanna hang on.”

Her dark brows furrowed in confusion and she had just opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but, before she could even get one syllable out, those large, rough hands were gripping the back of her thighs, hoisting her up off of the shower floor. She gave a startled little yelp and was quick to drape her arms over his broad shoulders.

“Good girl…” John praised, earning a glare from the sassy little brunette.

He used his grip on her thighs to spread them a little wider, giving him the _perfect_ angle. Then he brought one arm under that amazing ass so that he could bring his other hand around and down between their bodies. He wrapped his hand around his stiff length, guiding the broad head to her soaked folds. A low, rumbling growl ripped from his chest, his eyes fluttering shut and his head tipping back slightly as her slick heat greeted him.

_“Fuck!”_ he cursed sharply, drawing in a long, slow breath through his teeth.

He opened his eyes to find the dark-haired goddess in his arms staring back at him with heavy-lidded eyes, the blue of her irises growing a shade or two darker as a low purr coursed up from her throat.

John slowly worked the head of his cock down the length of her slick slit, tracing her entrance from top to bottom before making a slow sweep back up again. He watched as the Russian mafia heiress tipped her head back against the shower wall, her jaw clenched tight and her thighs tightening around his narrow hips as she rocked her hips, trying to bring herself closer to him. Her neck strained, her back arching, pressing her breasts against him first and then her hips.

“Ah, ah, ah…” he scolded, his lips twitching up into a crooked little smirk and a wicked glint filling his dark eyes, “You only get what I deem you’re worthy of.”

Her eyes widened in surprise before narrowing into little slits.

She opened that pretty little mouth to spout off something smart, but he beat her to the punch, asking, “You like to play games, don’t you, Kat?”

He watched as her jaw clenched and her nostrils flared slightly, a telltale sign of her anger.

“We’re gonna play a little game,” he explained, “The rules are simple: If you do something that pleases me, I reward you. If you do something that I don’t approve of, I punish you. Remember, only good girls get a reward. Bad girls get punished. Tell me, Kat, are you a good girl?”

He slowly traced the head of his cock up the length of her slit once more and her mouth fell open, her eyes growing heavy-lidded with desire.

“Or are you a bad girl…?” he finished, bringing the head of his cock right to her clit and working a slow circle over that sensitive little bundle of nerves.

He felt her thighs clench, her calves tightening and her toes curling even as her nails scraped lightly at the skin between his shoulder blades. Hell, her eyes nearly rolled back in her head! But the reaction that had his testosterone soaring was the short, sharp little whine she gave in response to the stimulation he gave her.

As much as it killed her to admit it, she found herself pleading desperately, “I’ll be good! I’ll be good! Just move!”

A sly smirk curled at John’s lips, but he gave a single, downward nod, and said, “We’ll see.”

John took his time, sliding in slowly, as slowly as he possibly could – at least that’s what it felt like to Kat. But the prolonged nature of his entrance only seemed to intensify every sensation. She could feel her muscles contracting slightly around him, welcoming his thick girth inside of her. She could feel her walls stretching to accommodate him. She could feel _every_ inch of his impressive length as he slid inside of her, every glorious inch. And then he was seated fully inside of her, his pelvis pressed right against hers. At least that’s what she had thought. But then he was rocking up onto the balls of his feet, using her ass to tug her right down to meet him, and he tapped at a spot so deep inside of her that she’d never realized it was even there.

She felt the broad head of his cock prodding at what she could only imagine was probably her cervix, sending a sharp jolt through her system and causing her toes to curl as a surprised gasp slipped past her lips.

“Fuck!” she cursed.

He simply smirked down at her, stating, “I thought that’s what I was doing.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, opening her mouth to tell him what she thought, but he cocked one dark brow at her, stilling inside of her, and she thought better of it, snapping her mouth shut once more.

“Good girl,” he praised, causing her to growl at him in response.

He just smirked, easing out of her and thrusting back in. He kept his pace slow to start, fucking her at a nice, languid pace. She knew that it was no effort for him. She knew that he could probably keep that pace up for hours. But she needed more.

“John…” she whined, voicing her impatience.

“Yes?” he inquired.

“Move,” she demanded.

He balked, remaining stock still, his cock still buried deep within her, and Kat groaned in defeat. She knew that he was playing this game by his rules, making them up as he went along. She knew that there was no besting him at his own games.

But that didn’t mean that she had to make it easy for him.

She cocked one brow at him, peering down at him with her blue eyes voicing the silent challenge as she lifted her chin slightly, looking down her nose at him. Then she concentrated, focusing all of her effort on the feeling of his stiff shaft inside of her, and clenched her inner walls tightly around him, coaxing a low groan from the contract killer. She smirked triumphantly down at him and repeated the gesture, grinning down at him.

“All right,” he said, “If that’s how you wanna play.”

He slowly retracted from her until just the head of his cock remained inside, then he gave a sudden, sharp thrust, angling his hips until the broad head of his cock tapped at her cervix. Kat’s nails dug into his shoulders, leaving tiny, red crescents in his skin as her thighs squeezed his hips and her inner walls squeezed him slightly.

“Like that, did you?” he asked her, his dark eyes dancing with amusement.

She narrowed her eyes at him, hardening her face until it was a mask of annoyance, not giving away any of her other emotions.

“Suit yourself,” he told her, giving another harsh buck inside of her.

A small, strangled sound tore from her throat, but she bit her lip hard in an attempt to suppress it.

“Oh, now, I think you can do better than that, Kit Kat,” he taunted.

Kat dug her nails into his shoulders in retaliation, raking her nails clear down his back until he was hissing, his back bowing as the pain laced through the pleasure.

“Two can play that game, Kitty Kat,” he hinted, just before he jerked his hips, adjusting the angle slightly until he hit her g-spot.

A sharp whine clawed its way out of her throat and her nails raked down his spine as her thighs squeezed him tight, her walls fluttering slightly around him.

John groaned then, long and low, pressing his face into the crook of her neck and tightening his grip on her ass as he jerked her down against him once more.

“Yes!” she cried before biting down on her lip until she tasted blood.

John grinned triumphantly against her skin, letting his tongue dart out of his mouth to follow a trail of sweat up the length of her neck.

“You’ll never admit it,” he told her, “But you sound so pretty when you beg.”

She narrowed her eyes as he stole a peek up at her and he simply smirked in return, giving another hard thrust against that sweet spot along her upper wall just to spite her. And so, it began, him arching and angling his hips against her to send such maddening waves of pleasure rolling through her body while she glared down at him and struggled to keep her sounds of ecstasy at bay. She bit her bottom lip until it was raw, her nails digging into his skin and her thighs shaking slightly in an effort to keep her body still, to seem as indifferent to his ministrations as possible.

But she could only keep the front up for so long because, soon, he was leaning down to capture one puckered nipple in his mouth and sucking greedily at it, growling as he used her ass to tug her right up against him and driving his cock down deep within her. The sound rumbled through him, sending vibrations shooting straight to her core, and she was lost, tipping her head back as she finally released a moan into the steam-filled shower.

“That’s a good girl…” he praised.

“Oh, fuck you!” she spat.

“Maybe later,” he told her, “Right now, I’m fucking _you._ And I think it’s safe to say that you’re _quite_ enjoying yourself.”

She tried to growl down at him, her blue eyes narrowed, but it came out as more of a choked sob of pleasure as he gave a particularly hard thrust against her g-spot, his pelvis colliding with her clit.

“Yes!” she cried before quickly biting down on her lip once more.

“Oh!” he said, grinning up at her, “There it is.”

“So, you can fuck,” she acquiesced, “But can you make me cum?”

“Haven’t I already?” he questioned, cocking one dark brow at her.

“Using your mouth is one thing,” she pointed out, “But a man has to have real talent to make a woman cum during sex.”

But the look in those dark eyes told her that he had already accepted the challenge. He’d taken the bait she’d just given him. And she barely managed to get a grip on his broad shoulders before he was thrusting harshly into her, tapping at first her cervix, then her g-spot, alternating in a hard, deep rhythm that had stars dancing beneath her closed eyelids and her toes curling as she used her heels to keep him pressed in close to her.

Within minutes, she was screaming, shouting out into the steam-ridden shower and clinging to him like her very life depended on it. She didn’t recognize the sounds coming out of her mouth, could barely even register the fact that she was probably leaving welts all the way down his back. She could hardly even hold on as he fucked her right into the shower wall, grunting and growling and thrusting like a madman until she was finally keening, high and wailing, her body reduced to nothing more than a pile of twitching muscles and trembling skin and fluttering heartbeats. Her blood rushed in her ears and her breath came sawing in and out of her lungs in quick, hard bursts. She was sure she would’ve hit the floor had he tried to place her on her feet just then. And, in all honesty, she had _never_ cum that hard in her life.

But just as she was finishing her orgasm, he reached his, burying his face into the crook of her neck and voicing a brutal shout as his hips jerked against her. Then he was still for a moment, breathing labored and muscles trembling, until he finally eased his head out of its hiding place and glanced up at her.

“Well…” he announced, “I’d say that’s worth a repeat performance. Wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose,” she said, doing her best to feign indifference.

He narrowed those dark eyes at her and informed her, “I guess I’ll just have to fuck you into submission then.”

Her brows nearly met her hairline at that, and she clamped her jaw shut tight to keep herself from letting it slip that that sounded like a _brilliant_ idea to her.

And, ever true to his word, John Wick did _just_ that.

** Lyrics from the Song: **

_Who You Talkin’ to Man_ by Ciscandra Nostalghia and Tyler Bates

_Sexual Hallucination_ by In This Moment feat. Brent Smith


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